


Say Anything (At All)

by ZarryFTZouis



Series: Chrissy's Oneshots [57]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Eating Disorders, F/M, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZarryFTZouis/pseuds/ZarryFTZouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I won't you say anything at all."<br/>- Say Anything by Marianas Trench</p><p> </p><p>Zayn is an anorexic / self-harming outcast at secondary school who used to date Harry.</p><p>What happened between them, either one of them will take it to his grave.</p><p>(Two-shot)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Do It

    _Just another cut_ , I whisper to myself as I close the door, instantly turning the water on. No one can hear me cry anymore. 

   At least not yet.

   I don't deserve to be happy - _slash -_  I'm nothing but a fag -  _slash slash -_  just a fucked up mess, -  _final slash._

   I watch the crimson river of blood flow into the white, porcelain sink with fascination, the pain numbing my mind with unlikely myrth. I can't help but let out a chuckle as the blood continues to flow, giving me a hysterical laughter. 

   After what feels like forver, I run the newly cut wounds under the cold water, hissing as the cold heat staunches the blood flow. 

   Numbness, that's all I deserve for being a faggot. 

   A worthless faggot who doesn't deserve anything anymore.

   A dark, masochistic smile tugs at the corner of my lips as the pleasure sets in, from the cuts clotting and I get some anticeptics so I don't get infections.

   Anyone.

   As the pleasurable numbness sets it, I hiss out from pain and chuckle darkly, the masochistic sound echoing in the toilets.

   If I die, maybe no one will ever bully me again.

   With a loud sigh, I retract my now-paler looking skin and run my fingertips across the newly-formed jagged lines.

 _Beautiful_ , a part of me that's sickly masochistic whispers.  _Just like how I was meant to be. I don't deserve anything_.

   Of course, the demons inside my head are always right,

   Because I'm worthless.

   After the "treatment", I turn the shower on, careful not to get any soap into the new scars. It stings like hell when water seeps through the make-shift water proof bandages but I bite back the pain.

   I stopped eating too much long time ago so I'm all skin and bones. I don't wanna be fat, and being fat means even less people who care about me.

   Hypocritical bastards who left me after using me.

   I hurry up and when I reach my school, I walk up to the nearest washroom and look at myself in the mirror. When I do, I see nothing but a miserable excuse of a human being.

   Making sure the door's locked, I pick out the blade from the rucksack, carefully hidden in the inner-most pocket, and push my trousers down.

   I was about to cut myself when the school bell rings. I put the blade away again and walk out of the washroom quickly.

  I catch a glimpse of brown curls when I leave. The person is quick to turn around and go in opposite direction, as if he's too embarassed to acknowledge I exist.

   The first class I have is Arts, which is the only class I really care about taking. Making sure the sleeve covers up the bandages, I go to my usual spot at the back of the classroom and sit in front of the easel to hear the teacher go on and on about what we're covering today. She drones on and on about the Hellenism in modern arts when all I can think about is how used I feel.

   How I shouldn't even exist.

   When the class ends, I stay behind, trying not to get the new scars to itch against the bandage. A random girl brushes past me and I let out an involuntary grunt when it causes the cut to bump against the easel. She looks at me curiously but she walks away, like it disgusts how she came in contact with me.

   Just like everyone else.

   In the hallways, when I see  _him_ , his eyes avert from mine, and he chats with the blonde girl he was previously talking to.

_But I can see how much he wants to talk to me? Is this some kind of a sick joke?_

   He stops talking to the girl and walks straight up towards me, with a wry smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. All I see is a boy who used me.

   "Zayn..." he starts but I push him away with a growl.

   "Don't fucking touch me, Styles. I don't want to see you ever again," I growl with, furious that he wants to fix what we had. "You left  _me_ , remember? Right after you said you loved me?"

   Without waiting for his reply, I turn on my heels and go to my next class.

~*~

   After long hours of school, I'm more than eager to jog back home, where I can be left in peace...

    _Or not,_  I mumble to myself when Safaa barges into my room as soon as I plop down ono my bed, her eyes bright with happiness I wish I could have.

  "Zayn,  _amma_  wants us to have snacks right now!" She giggles and makes grabby hands at me, expecting me to pick her up. I oblige to her and pick her up, an involuntary grunt leaving my lips when my action causes one of my scars to re-open.

   "Are you okay?" She asks, sensing my discomfort. "Is something wrong, Zayn?"

   "Nothing's wrong, Safaa," I fake a smile, pressing my lips to her temple. "Let's go see what  _amma_  has for us, 'kay?" _  
_

Mum notices something's up when I carry Safaa downstairs, her sharp eyes training on to my covered up scars. Thankfully, she doesn't comment on anything other than lifting her brows.

   I barely take anything she's cooked for us, encouraging Safaa and Waliyha to take more.

   "For a teenage boy, you sure eat a lot," Waliyha jokes as she bumps her shoulder into me, before throwing her arms around me for a loose hug. I flinch at the contact, the scars now - probably - bleeding again. "Don't tell me you broke up with Perrie."

   "We broke it off a long time ago," I reply through clenched jaws. God, I thought she knew i was gay. "Didn't I say it before?"

   "Oh..." is all she says before she takes a confused looking Safaa with her, away from me.

   Great, everyone knows I'm single who had sex with  _him_. Well, the single part, not the gay sex I had with Harry fucking Styles. It wasn't sex, he fucked me without any feelings. Sex implies he cares about me.

    _He used you, you're nothing more than a pathetic piece of sod._

   As if on cue, my phone lights up with a new text message.

    **From Haz:**

**Zayn, I know you see this, and I'm sorry :(**

   Not bothering to reply to that, I rush to my room and lock it behind me. I've had enough with people trying to act like they care about me when all they did was wreck me.

   I take my shirt off, leaving me bare except for the bandages covering my scars. Without any hesitance, I rip it off and run my fingertips over the tan, jagged patch of skin over my wrists. Despite the fact that nothing's beautiful about this, about what I'm about to do, I hear myself starting to laugh.

   Loud, broken, melancholic laughters feel my cold, emoty room as twin crimson rivers of sorrow flow endlessly. Drops of thick, red liquid fall down onto the stark white floor, tinting its original colour.

    **To Haz:**

**you were the only good thing in my life, you're beautiful and all i could've ever asked for. don't look for me anymore cos by the time you checked this, i'll be long gone. i loved you, my cupcake. i'm sorry i wasn't good enough. x**


	2. I Broke It All... And You're Fading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's POV and Zayn's Funeral

**A/N Harry's POV for Just Do It and the funeral.  
**

   "For the last fucking time, Gem, I didn't do anything with him. Will you leave me the hell alone?"

   Aggravated by Gemma's incessant questions about what happened between me and Zayn, I lash out at her, my brows furrowed together from our last half-hour of yelling and screaming at each other.

  "You know how I feel about the gays, Harry," Gemma, her normally pacifying hazel green eyes frigid from our ongoing argument. "And especially Robin."

  "Oh wow, you  _had_  to pull out the new stepfather card, that's a low blow from you, Gem. I honesly haven't a care what you think of my fling with Zayn. It was just one shag." Letting the finality set into my tone, I slam my door in her face, quite literally, and lock it, collapsing against a wall as tears stream down my face.

  I refuse to let her know what really happened between us. God, she doesn't even understand what  _we_ went through before we shagged.

  It wasn't even a proper shag; I fucked him and that's pretty much it. No emotions, no feelings, no attachment.

  I saw his beauty through his insecurities and his reputation of being a moody piece of sod like everyone else said. He had Arts together (which I dropped out of since there's zero potential of me doing artsy stuff). Call it clichéd, but it was a love at first sight.

  That was last August, whole six months ago before I noticed a few things.

  Like how he'd shy away from me hugging him too long or toughing his forearms and wrists.

  Dark bags under his eyes that were more than prominent in periods of roughly three to four weeks.

  Long-sleeved shirts and jackets perfectly covering the entire view of his arms and, sometimes, his hands.

  I put two and two together and pieced together a theory; he's self-harmed before. Being in involved with a cutter... didn't attract me in the least. But my heart, the stupid thing I always try to ignore, whispered that I stay with Zayn and help him come over his personal issues.

  We snogged in an empty classroom after hour last period of school (sixth form was always a pain in the arse and I wonder why Zayn chose to stay instead of going off to college) one late October night and things got heavy. His usual hesitancy was long gone in the dimly-lit classroom and he allowed me to strip his button-down flannel, along with the tank top he was wearing underneath. I pressed him against the wall as I trailed sucking kisses down his neck, noticing how scrawny he was compared to girls I'd previously been with. Carefully, I traced my hands down his arms, forcing myself not to flinch when I felt the ragged skin on my fingertips. He went rigid when my hand lowered down to his hand to interlock our fingers, raising them above our heads as I kissed a path back to his lips, or rather, around, as I muttered "you're beautiful" against his skin.

  Something snapped inside him then, because he untangled our fingers and wrapped his arms around my waist, flipping us around, slamming my back against the very wall he'd been pressed up to a moment ago.

  "Why, Harry?" He said before crashing his lips onto mine, not waiting for me to reply. For a skinny lad, he was lots stronger and I let him when he caressed my thighs and lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his lean waist. I let him take control as he grinded his hard on into my groin, arousing me further.

  We stayed like that, rubbing our bodies against each other, kissing, nipping and roaming our hands on every contours until we climaxed.

  But not all things come freely, cos life is a bitch and we die. There's so much shit to worry about - the social status.

  As the flamboyant boy with deathly charms guys and girl alike sought after, me having a relationship with the distant, geeky halfie (they said the term like it was an insult) who hides behind his arts and books wasn't the right thing to do. Rumours spread like wildfire of how much of a whore I was to fuck Zayn, which in my defence didn't happen until Christmas break, after my recent break up with Carolina. I'd no doubts that it was Carolina herself who started them just to take me back.

  It worked at the end.

  On January 12th, on Zayn's 18th birthday, instead of flowers and a birthday date, I broke his heart once and for all.

  He didn't say anything about it when I drove to his house and told him I used him for sex, that I've never fallen in love with him like I told him whilst having sex. 

  That he's a worthless fag who doesn't deserve any love.

  Now it's mid-March and we haven't spoken to each other at all.

  Near the school washrooms, I get a glimpse of all-too-familiar black hair that's slightly styled into resemble something like a quiff; a sideway quiff, if you will.

  Before he can see me, I make a beeline for my Theatrics class. The teacher goes on an on about the importance of stage props and and the improvisations you deal with when it comes to the real world situations. I only pay attention halfway, not bothering to listen to him talk about what we've learnt ages ago.

  When the bell rings, with my luck, Carolina shows up to the theatre.

  "Haz!" Her racoon-eye makeup with ruby red lipstick is way too horrid and slaggish to my taste. "I was wondering-"

  "Yeah, I missed you too, Care, but I really don't want to... Zayn."

  Zayn's in the hallway and I smile, welcoming the sight of his beautiful features, willing to talk to him about how things should've been.

 "Zayn..." I start, reaching out for his arm but he pushes me away, cold contempt in his unblinking amber-brown eyes. 

  "Don't fucking touch me, Styles. You left  _me,_ remember? Right after you told me you loved me?" He turns on his heels and walks away from me, leaving me astonished and mouth agape.

   _You fucked up big time,_ I chatistise myself with a growl, allowing Carolina to drag me away to my next class.

~*~

  Guilt is eating me alive so I, against my worse judgements, send Zayn a text.

   **To: Zaynie**

**I know you see this, please reply :(**

  I wait couple hours, doing my homework, and his reply doesn't come til Gemma knocks on my door. Not having expected her to do so anytime soon, I open the door, only to be tackled by her with a hug. I wrap my own arms around her shoulders, letting my unshed tears I didn't know I was repressing.

  "I'm sorry... and it'll be alright, Harry..." Gemma rubs my back soothingly as I cry into her shoulder, all my walls I've built around myself tumbling down. "I didn't mean any of the things I said to you earlier... Robin shouldn't dictate what I should believe and support."

  "I hurt him, I hurt him bad, and there's no way to undo what I've done to him..."

  "He's a reasonable lad, he'll understand." Gemma kisses my cheek, flashing a sad smile before she excuses herself and goes back to her room.

  I let sleep take over me, wanting to obliviate everything I've done wrong to him.

~*~

   _"I love you so much, Zayn," dream-me says as the black-haired lad stares up at me, his dark amber / hazel green eyes uncertain, his lithe form trapped underneath me, both of us fully naked. "I was wrong to say those things to you that night and I wish I could take them back. I never stopped loving you, you're all that I need."_

_"I want this to be the last thing I remember, Harry," dream-Zayn replies before lifting his head up to kiss me hard, rushed like I was the lifeline he was holding on to. His familiar smoke-tinted lips pry mine apart effortlessly, his hand roaming my body freely as I put my hands against his hipbones. In this dream, there're no scars marring his perfection nor is he the boy of sking and bones I remember from school. It's just Zayn, the Zayn I knew before everything turned sour and took a wrong turn. "Make love to me."_

_Nodding, I kiss him back, rutting my hips against his, eliciting moans from him as we both grow hard. His tongue swipes across my lower lip before entering my mouth, spiking against my tongue in the the rhythm I'd gotten used to before we broke up._

_"Power bottom," I manage to mumble against his plump lips as he giggles, his hand lowering down to my arse and firmly grabs it, causing me to groan into his lips. "I - ugh - thought I was the dominant one here."_

_"Power bottom," he repeats me before pulling away from my lips to attack my neck, not sparing any second before starting to suck on my soft spot, leading me astray to total ecstasy._

_"I'd go back to December all the time, to the time I told you I love you, Zayn, I-"_

  An obnoxiously loud beeping noise awakens me from my (sex) dream and I roll over, still dressed in the same outfit as I today - no, last night, it's bloody half-two in the morning - and check my phone.

**From Zaynie**

**you were the only good thing in my life, you're beautiful and all i could've ever asked for. don't look for me anymore cos by the time you checked this, i'll be long gone. i loved you, my cupcake. i'm sorry i wasn't good enough. x**

Gemma finds me in hysteria, screaming and bawling my eyes out.

  Mum and Gemma take me to the hospital and they gave me sedatives to calm me down after I tried to stab one of the nurses with a scalpel for getting close to me.

  Dr Macht tells me that I had a panic attack triggered by an emotional event. He tells me that he's sorry for my loss. He prescribes meds in case the attacks come again and releases me from the hospital, not before giving mum a psychiatrist's number though.

**Two months later at Zayn's memorial service**

  "He was my sanity, my verion of heaven, someone I'd fallen in love with from the start. When he was with us, others didn't see him the way I did. No one loved him the way I loved him and he me. Do you want to know why he committed? Because of the damn society we live in. He didn't deserve any of the stuff he went through, nor do we have anyone but the hypocritical people amongst us. He called me beautiful the night he... took his own life. I was the last person he talked to and it sickens me how he decided to take his own life  _because of me_. 

  "I was wrong to leave him with deceits and twisted truths just to please and go with the flow of my peers. God, I was such a dick for hurting the already-fragile lad. Somewhere, in the place what we call the afterlife, I wish he could hear me right now cos this is my apology.

  "Zayn Javadd Malik, you're the only person I've felt this way with. I'll never forget you, or ever make myself remember to to that. I love you and I'm sorry for that night."

  I turn on my heels, leaving Zayn's friends, family and relatives, hot tears flowing down my cheeks as I head towards my car.

   _I forgive you, Haz..._

  A nearly-forgotten familiar voice drifts through the early May air, or maybe I'm just imagining it.


End file.
